You And Me, Always(16)

Ten minutes later, he still hadn't found it. Carefully leafing through  the pages of the copy of Red that she'd put out yesterday, he was  beginning to suspect that the item he'd seen her drop into the box had  been the flyer for a pizza delivery company that had come through the  letter box last night. Then again, if she'd really wanted to hide the  letter from him, surely she'd choose to leave it in a bin somewhere  further away from the house, so that was still a possib-

A car horn tooted and Declan looked up as a silver 4x4 squealed to a halt beside him.

‘Hiya!' Jumping out of the driver's seat, Carly tottered on to the  pavement and threw her arms around him. ‘Mwah, mwah. Now listen, thanks  so much for Friday, we had such a great evening!'

‘Our pleasure. It was good fun, wasn't it?' Carly and her husband had  been the last to head off after the dinner party. Wondering why she was  here now, Declan said, ‘Did you leave something behind?'

‘For once, no. Quite the opposite, in fact. Honestly, what am I like?'  Carly's conversations tended to be rattled out like machine-gun fire.  ‘Well, I know what I'm like, I get a few drinks down my neck and my  brain goes AWOL. Anyway, I've worked out how it happened, because when I  went to touch up my make-up there was someone else in the loo, so I  sneaked into your bedroom instead, to use a mirror, then I couldn't find  my stupid lipstick so I tipped everything out of my bag on to your  bed!'

It was like finally, after days of puzzling over a fiendish crossword  clue, all of a sudden realising you'd figured out the answer.

‘And then I chucked it all back in, but it wasn't until this morning  that I found I'd scooped up something else too. Completely by accident,  of course. But I'm so sorry and I do hope you haven't been searching for  it.' As she spoke, Carly was opening her bag, taking out the pale green  envelope and wincing apologetically.

‘Thanks.' Declan broke into a broad smile; he wouldn't tell her how long  he'd spent trying to find it. ‘I had wondered where it had got to. But  it's not a problem; I'm just glad to have it back.'

‘Well I feel terrible, but I really didn't mean it to happen. Anyway, you've got it now. And I haven't read it, I promise.'

‘OK.' Declan nodded.

‘Oh who am I trying to kid? Of course I read it!' The confession came  tumbling out. ‘Anyone who says they wouldn't do the same is a liar. A  proper letter written in real handwriting? Are you kidding? Who could  resist that!'

‘It's fine, don't worry.' Declan didn't blame her; the chances were that  he'd have done exactly the same. Interested, he said, ‘And what do you  think I should do?'

‘OK, is there even the teeniest chance that this girl's your daughter?'

Was this the conclusion everyone was going to jump to? He shook his head. ‘No chance at all.'

‘Well that's a big shame. But I still think you have to meet her,' said  Carly. ‘She sounds so lovely! Why?' Her eyebrows rose as far as the  Botox would allow. ‘Don't you want to?'

‘No, I really do. It's just that Gail can't understand why I would.'

‘Can't she? Well, maybe she's just not that curious. Some people are,  some aren't. And it's not actually anything to do with Gail anyway, is  it?'

‘I suppose not.' Declan smiled. ‘You're right, it doesn't affect her. Fair enough.'                       
       
           



       

‘Ah, she's a nice girl. You make a good couple. And now I'd better go.'  Carly gave him another quick kiss on the cheek and jangled her car keys.  ‘Pilates  –  I'll be in trouble if I'm late!'

Back inside the house, Declan opened his laptop and dealt with the  morning emails, but his attention kept sliding back to the letter on the  table next to him. Poor Gail: to think he'd suspected her of underhand  practices, when all this time she'd been completely innocent. Of course  she was innocent; Gail was blunt and outspoken but never underhand.

Plus, destroying it wouldn't have stopped him from making contact with  Jo's daughter anyway. He might not have been able to recall Lily's email  address, but knowing she lived in Goldstone House in Stanton Langley  meant he would certainly have been able to find her. He'd already looked  up the village and liked what he'd seen of it online.

But now that he had the letter back, he could even more easily send off  an email and  –  as Lily herself had suggested  –  arrange for the two of  them to meet up, right here in London.

Declan sat back and gazed out of the window. And yet  …  and yet, since  exploring Stanton Langley via Google Earth, the idea of an email no  longer seemed quite enough.

He checked his watch: it was still only 8.30 on a bright, sunny morning.  Getting out of the city and heading west wasn't out of the question. He  could be there by eleven. And he had no business appointments today, no  other commitments, nowhere else he categorically had to be.

Which was an unusual enough situation to feel a bit like fate.

Plus, Lily might not have specified exactly whereabouts, but she'd told him she worked in Stanton Langley  …



Once he'd escaped the clogged streets of London, the journey had been  smooth. By 10.30, Declan found himself on the outskirts of the village.  And then he was driving along the broad main street, lined with trees  and flowers and quintessentially quirky custard-yellow stone buildings.  The sky was cloudless and cobalt blue, sunlight bounced off windows, and  there were plenty of people around  –  as one of the jewels of the  Cotswolds, Stanton Langley was something of a tourist trap, and several  of the shops catered to their needs. But the place seemed to have a good  feel to it, an inherent charm and warmth signalling that the residents  enjoyed living here as much as outsiders loved to visit it. People were  greeting each other, stopping to chat, emerging from shops and waving to  those they knew. There was a bakery, a hairdresser's called Rafferty's,  a mini-supermarket, a couple of restaurants, a tea room, the  souvenir-type businesses and a couple of antiques shops. A large pub,  the Star Inn, had plenty of tables outside it and a black Labrador lying  in a patch of shade close to the entrance.

Declan knew he'd slowed down, but it wasn't until he heard an impatient  bicycle bell ding-dinging behind him that he realised quite how much.  Raising a hand in apology, he allowed the elderly woman to overtake him  and smiled as she threw him a disparaging glance whilst pedalling  regally by.

But he couldn't help himself: being here felt like stepping into his  computer and experiencing Google Earth brought to life. There, next to  the Star Inn, was Goldstone House. And on the other side of the  property, above the entrance to what he presumed was a driveway leading  round to the house, was a dark blue sign announcing in simple gold  lettering: Goldstone Salvage & Treasure.

Since there was nowhere to stop, Declan carried on down the road, turned  right at the end and found a small car park. Accustomed to London  prices, he was amused to see from the Pay and Display sign that leaving  his car here for two hours would cost a whole pound.

He bought his ticket and headed back on foot to the main street. As he  approached Goldstone House, he saw two people carrying a white  wrought-iron garden table out through the gates and loading it into the  back of a grey van. The man was in his sixties, the woman twenty years  younger. He was overweight and grey-haired; she was slender and blonde,  wearing jeans and a navy T-shirt. She was talking and laughing with the  man as they secured the table, tying it with blue nylon rope to the bars  on the inside of the van.

When the task was completed and the blonde woman turned and jumped down,  Declan saw the Goldstone logo on the front of her shirt and realised  that she wasn't the man's younger prettier wife after all; she worked  here.

She had blue eyes, swingy hair and the kind of narrow-hipped figure so  many other women could only dream of. And if she was in her late  forties, there was a good chance her name was Coral.





Chapter 16



‘Hi.' Realising she was being watched, the woman dusted her hands on the  sides of her jeans and said cheerily, ‘Anything I can do for you?'                       
       
           



       

‘Hope so.' All of a sudden, Declan no longer knew what to do with his  own hands. His pulse began to speed up. Taking his car keys out of his  trouser pocket for something to jangle, he promptly dropped them. Which  meant having to bend down and pick them up and pray his back didn't go  into spasm and make him look eighty. Finally, vertical once more, he  said, ‘I'm looking for Lily.'